Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

Soon the waves had turned into a seething mass, breaking on the shoreline with a crash. She saw the foamy tips and braced herself as they came closer to the beach. Though the sea was not as rough as some days, bringing a small boat into land was difficult for it was easily tossed about.

  She turned and gazed up at the fair man as he directed the men confidently. He stood, legs apart, assured and steady. It seemed as though he was the master of the seas, his confidence unshakable. Surely men bowed to his will. Mayhap he thought the ocean would too?

  His deep voice, smooth yet exciting, just reached her ears and she pondered his Gaelic tongue. She had spoken with Norse-Gaels before and many had their own distinct way of speaking but she had never heard any so… so Scottish sounding as he. Catriona blinked as she took a proper study of him. Gone was his fur. Now it likely hung over her shoulders, brushing her bare skin. But what disconcerted her most was his manner of dress. He looked as Scottish as any highlander. Only his shoulder length fair hair made him stand out. And when she looked to the other men, she realised they too wore plaids. Mayhap they always had. Mayhap she had been too horror stricken and disorientated to notice. But for what purpose?

  Was she to be part of some great deception? The attack on Bute was the first after months of discontent on the Norse peoples’ part. Bute once belonged to the Norse but the King of Scots wanted the Western Isles back and the King of Norway would have none of it. That did not surprise Catriona. For as long as she had understood men, she had known greediness. But the invasion took them by surprise. None expected the keep to fall.

  Sand ground under the hull, making Catriona wince. They had made it through the surf and now the waves fell weakly about the boat. She released a breath, relieved to be on land once more. She did not intend to get soaked again. Once her feet touched the sand, she would consider her next move. Without her garments, she could hardly escape. However, being on the mainland made her chest expand with hope. If she could find a moment to run there would surely be shelter somewhere.

  She hoped.

  The man jumped deftly over the side and another three men followed. Together they worked to pull the boat fully ashore. Catriona tried to keep her gaze from tracking the tug of his shirt against his muscles but failed repeatedly. He should not, but for some reason the Norseman fascinated her. His features were partially hidden in the gloom of the night but his profile begged her to trace her gaze over it, to follow the sharp lines and dips.

  She hunched down when he released his grip on the bow and took a step forward. Gone was her fascination. Now she recalled he had taken her against her will, and there was nothing to prevent him from doing what he wished with her. He offered a hand and she glanced around as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She had to get out of the boat. Had to cooperate for the moment. If she played the meek captive, mayhap they would let their guards down and she could escape. She frowned and slipped her hand into his. Once she got her gown back that was. Catriona squeezed the furs tight at her neck, aware of the breeze swirling about her nude legs.

  Feet sinking into the damp sand, she almost groaned aloud. Her slippers were gone, lost in the fight to keep the other attacker from between her thighs. How would she escape without anything on her feet? She eyed the Viking’s boots briefly and when she lifted her head she caught him studying her bare legs and feet.

  “Ach, ye’ll no’ get far like that.”

  In one swift movement, he swept a hand under her legs, the other around her back and scooped her into his arms. Catriona gasped and frantically readjusted the pelt to preserve her modesty.

  “Ye dinnae need to....”

  “Aye, yer my burden now, lass. Have no fear. I’ll no’ let ye come to harm.”

  Allowing her brow to crease, she gaped at the man. Have no fear? His burden? Did he mean to marry her mayhap? Use her for a political alliance? If he was an important man, a marriage to one of the laird of Bute's daughters would certainly be beneficial.

  But, did she believe he did not intend to harm her? Something in his manner was strangely reassuring. The man was a warrior, through and through. Large in stature, strong and sure, but something softer simmered beneath. The way he looked created a tiny fluttering sensation in her chest. She shook her head to swipe away foolish thoughts. She would do well to remember he’d just killed a man and taken her from her home. Whatever he wanted with her did not matter. She had to get away. If he truly meant her no harm, she would be safe until she decided on a way to escape. For the moment, she would be wise to keep her thoughts—and real name and identity—to herself.

  “We will make for the hills,” he told her, “and set up camp away from the beach. Ye’ll get yer gown when it’s dry.”

  She nodded slowly, unable to form any words. His firm hold warmed her cold skin and the thud of his heart against her cheek soothed her. This disconcerted her most of all. In his arms, her shields were down. The flex of his muscles around her body as he took sure steps across the gravelly sand sent heat coiling through her. What a fool she was. She’d heard of lasses being taken and falling in love with their kidnapper. Was this what was happening to her?

  The ache in her head forced away any further worries. Little could be done now. She certainly would not be the kind to fall for her enemy and she could ill afford to.

  He called to the men behind him, directing them to leave the boat for the owner. The rest of his orders were fuzzy to her ears. Fatigue took its toll, leaching into her limbs and mind. She yawned and was rewarded with a rumbling chuckle. He must have seen it.

  “Rest now, wee lass.”

  Her stomach flipped at his words. What sort of a Viking kidnapper spoke with such tenderness? She failed to supress another yawn. Well, hopefully she would not find out. Once she had rested, she’d get back her gown and make an escape. She would likely never meet the man again.

  ***

  Tèile had watched the boat come into shore. She winced as it tossed about. The seas were calm enough but the wash never made it easy for small boats to land on the beach. There was little to be done about it. If her last experience at matchmaking taught her anything, it was to be more careful with her magic. It would not do to create yet another mess. She huffed to herself and fluttered over them, having to adjust her wings to deal with the slight breeze. Dropping down, she settled on the bow of the boat, using both wings to keep her balance as it rolled with the waves.

  She peered at the woman and pondered her. Finn was handsome but his heart was set on staying unmarried. It would prove a task to unite two souls at the right time. Unfortunately she knew little of the woman yet. All the sidhe council told her was that she was a lady who would need help. Whatever that meant.

  She flexed her wings and sighed. Dealing with mortals was most tiring but the sidhe council had commanded it so she had little choice. And she had so hoped she’d be returning home after bringing Alana and Morgann together.

  But it appeared she’d used one trick too many. Her weather spells had caused some disturbance and pushed forward the Norse invaders’ campaign. Had all gone according to plan, Finn would have met Catriona at a later date and under no guise.

  Curses. She could swear the council liked making her life difficult. You’d think they’d be happy she’d achieved her original goal of uniting Morgann and Alana and the two clans. The bloodshed had ceased and the laird and lady were undoubtedly happier than ever.

  As the vessel ground to a halt in the sand and a highlander jumped out to secure it, Tèile dodged out of the way and set her hands determinedly on her hips. She would prove to the council she could do a good job. Then hopefully she would finally be allowed to return home and enjoy the luxuries of the fae world once more.

  Her tongue felt dry just thinking of the fae wine she was missing. But she had a job to do. She needed to focus. Soon everyone would be speaking of the Green Faery’s great deeds. A grin teased her lips and she thought of the dreams with which she’d already taunted Finn. He might not have realised it yet
, but he had met Catriona before. Hopefully the seeds of desire were already planted.

  Not quite yet though. She needed to hold them at bay for a little while longer. When the time was right, they would come together in such a clash of love all would be right in the world once more and Tèile could return home.

  She let her wings drop. Experience had taught her that mortal hearts were not so easily governed. Tèile prayed she’d learned enough from her last try at matchmaking.

  ***

  As they made their way up away from the beach, Finn glanced at the lass in his arms. He had to keep repositioning the furs as a glimpse of leg or the curve of a breast would peek out. It made concentrating on where he was going more difficult than it should have. Though milky light dotted the hills, the ground was uneven. Thankfully they saw no more of the inclement weather, the green hills remained dry and the clouds had broken apart. A woman in his arms and muddy ground surely spelled trouble so he uttered thanks for the dry grass.

  She slept soundly. Over the rush of the sea that whispered through the air, he heard her steady breaths. Katelyn seemed to trust him now which made his chest swell with pride. And then a stab of reality hit him. He did not want or need her trust. Their journey was short enough and then he’d hand her over to his sister—and Katelyn’s betrothed—and be on his way. A woman had trusted him once and…

  Finn shook his head and glanced at the following men. They walked swiftly, all too aware the Norsemen had probably discovered the lady of the keep was now missing. She would have made a fine prize and a useful bargaining tool with the king. If they wanted her badly enough, the seas were easily crossed. Finn intended to make camp far away from the coastline where their fire could not be seen.

  They continued on for several miles until the salty air gave way to the lush scent of heather and grass. With the beach far behind, Finn paused and waited for Logan to catch up. The dark-haired man came to his side and hefted his leather satchel off one shoulder for a moment.

  “Are we to make camp?”

  Finn nodded. “Aye, we are far enough away I should think. We’ll find no shelter here,” he glanced around the bare hills, “but we can see many a mile. No thief or bandit will be able to sneak up on us.”

  “Indeed. The moonlight is strong too. ‘Twould be easy to spot a stranger.”

  “We must count our blessings the skies have cleared. The lass has taken a soaking enough.”

  “Well the weather is mild enough. She’ll no’ catch a chill now. Though Lorna willnae be happy ye handled her so.”

  “What would ye have me do? Ye were the one who suggested removing her garments, or had ye forgotten?” Finn drew back his shoulders and forced aside memories of soft skin beneath his fingertips.

  “Aye, but Lorna would tell ye that ye shouldnae have let her get wet in the first place.”

  “Ach, ye are worse than her, Logan. Too much time at my sister’s side, that is yer problem. Ye sound like a nagging lassie.”

  Logan bristled. “Someone had to stay by her side.”

  Finn frowned, perturbed by his defensive tone. Lorna was capable of looking after herself, a trait Finn took great pride in. As a brother—and the only male in their direct line—he had a duty to the women in his family. But he took little enjoyment in having a woman dependent on him, even a beloved sister. Women were too fragile and vulnerable. Too easily harmed. It pleased him that Lorna did not depend on him for her safety. That way, he could never fail her like he had Alice.

  “Gather some wood and light a fire,” he ordered, unwilling to dwell on the subject any longer. Logan huffed and went off in search of firewood as the other men dropped their bags wearily and began making camp.

  The crossing had drained them all—rowing against the tide took some strength—so he decided to take first watch. Mayhap it was because he’d been carrying Katelyn or perhaps the thrill of battle still flowed in his blood, because his body remained tense, his senses alert. Ach, how had he ended up doing the one thing he hated—looking after a vulnerable woman? He would far rather be at the MacRae keep in Glencolum with his kin.

  He studied the lady and kneeled. Gingerly placing her down, he held his breath as he waited for her to stir. But her breaths came slowly and her eyes remained shut. The exertions of the day had certainly taken their toll. She had appeared fully alert when she’d awoken so he did not think her head injury had caused any permanent damage but it would be an idea to wake her soon to be sure.

  Sitting, he rested an arm upon one knee and watched Logan put a flint to the fire. The fire grew quickly, bathing their small camp in a warm glow. Aye, he missed home. Missed his small cottage and simple life. He had been gone just over a sennight but he hungered for his own bed and the company of the good men around his cousin’s table. Of course, once Morgann married, life at Glencolum had changed. His duties lessened now Morgann had Alana at his side. In truth, as happy as he was for Morgann, it gave him too much time.

  Time to ponder the emptiness of his small cottage. Time to watch their love. Time to wonder… Ach, what was he thinking? He turned his gaze to Katelyn in a search for distraction. While the fire hissed and popped, she slept on. For some reason, he longed to know how she looked without bruises marring her face. Did her features match her body? Delicate in places, yet lush in others. Her lips were full. With a golden glow painting them, they were a tempting sight to be sure. What colour were they in the full light of day? The dim shadows of the keep and the growing dusk had disguised her, piquing his curiosity. But her secrets were not intended for him. Once he took her to Kilcree there would be no reason for him to stay. Another man lay in her future and he would be the one to discover her secrets, to relish in the beauty Finn suspected sat beneath the swollen cheek and puffy eyes.

  “I will take first watch,” he told Logan as he handed out chunks of bread.

  Finn picked at the coarse bread, hard from their travels. His appetite evaded him but he ate regardless. Katelyn’s appearance was testament to the Norse warriors’ brutality. He needed his strength. He flexed his fingers and fought the urge to trace the marks on her face. How he longed to run them all through. Even killing her aggressor had done little to assuage his desire for revenge. What kind of men attacked an innocent woman? Unfortunately Finn had seen enough warfare to know it was not uncommon. The years leading up to Alana and Morgann’s marriage had been riddled with strife. Bloodshed did strange things to men.

  A small sound emanated from Katelyn and he swallowed when he noticed her shuddering movements. Ach, even with the warmth of the fire and the thick furs, they were not enough to protect her from the elements. A noble woman like her had likely never spent a night outside whereas he’d spent too many. Warriors such as himself barely felt the cold and slept with ease. He also awoke with ease too. Not many would have picked up on the sounds Katelyn made, but his ears were attuned to her every noise. Being so aware of her made his stomach churn.

  Duty. It was only duty. Something he’d done his best to avoid. Nevertheless, letting Lorna down was not an option. With a sinking heart, he finished the rest of his bread and slid down next to Katelyn. Carefully, and trying not to disturb the pelt, he slipped an arm underneath her head. His movements slow, he tugged her into him and wrapped his other arm around her. Finn did not worry that he might fall asleep in this position. Indeed his mind blazed with awareness. What caused that, he did not wish to think on.

  Katelyn mumbled, her eyelids fluttered and she burrowed her head further into his chest. The woman must have been particularly chilled. He’d never met a noble woman so fearless. Even Alana with her feisty temperament, or Lorna with her bold tongue, would not have tolerated being held by a strange man while wearing no more than a fur. Was it too soon to admire her for her practical nature? The lass had barely said two words yet after her initial fear she accepted his help with great dignity. Many of the lasses he knew might have chosen to freeze to death instead.

  Still he felt the need to atone for his conduct.
“Forgive me, my lady. Ye were shaking. Ye need body warmth.”

  “I—thank ye, sir.”

  And now she thanked him for his behaviour. Lord, she was unlike any lass he’d ever met. Ach, in his experience lasses either played the coy innocent or the uptight noblewoman. He’d eventually broken through all of those acts, he thought to himself with a grin. But Katelyn was different. Mayhap under other circumstances he would have been met with pretence, but he suspected not. Few people fooled him.

  “Yer gown shall be dry before long and then ye will have no more need of me.”

  She nodded, viewing him from under her lashes. Something unreadable sat behind those eyes. Likely a quick mind worked behind them.

  “Are we far inland?”

  “Some ten miles.”

  “Do ye no’ fear Scots attacking ye?”

  “We hold a strong position and have many powerful sword arms on our side. Ye need not fear, my lady.”

  “Aye.” She flexed her fingers against his chest and withdrew them abruptly. “Are we to travel far?”

  “Six nights.”

  Far off, the howl of a wolf skipped over the hills and Katelyn pressed into him. Her trembling increased. His heart flexed.

  “’Tis far off, dinnae be concerned,” he assured her. He scowled when his voice came out gruff. That soft little body against his chest sent an increasing ripple of awareness through him. He threw his gaze up to the sky in a prayer for restraint.

  “’Tis a clear night. We’ll no’ see rain,” he offered weakly in an attempt to force his mind away from smooth flesh beneath thick fur.

  “Aye.”

  He glanced down to see her gaze turn heavenwards. The tilt of her lips reminded him of a plea to a lover.

  For a kiss.

  And for the briefest moment he considered dipping his head and brushing his lips over hers, just to see how they would feel. Finn clenched his jaw and looked away once more—away from temptation. This was another man’s woman. And a vulnerable one at that. He did not need a helpless lass attaching herself to him.